


Where Love Resides

by mdr_24601



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Forced Prostitution, POV Finnick Odair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28717452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mdr_24601/pseuds/mdr_24601
Summary: When Finnick returns home from his excruciating Capitol trips, Annie is there waiting for him.
Relationships: Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38





	Where Love Resides

The first time Annie waits for him at the station, he is nineteen. She is eighteen, still fresh out of the arena, closed off and painfully open all at once, jumpy at sudden sounds. She doesn’t leave her house, not that Finnick’s been paying close attention. He hasn’t, of course. It’s just difficult not to notice. 

So when he sees Four’s newest victor sitting next to Mags on one of the wooden benches at the train station, he is momentarily surprised. Still, he continues his walk towards them with only a slight hitch in his steps. 

“You look tired,” Annie says bluntly as he approaches. 

Not _hello_ or _welcome back,_ but _you look tired._ And he is, in more ways than one. He’s always tired after his trips to the Capitol. After all, he can only smile for so long before it strains. Even he has limits. “Thanks,” Finnick says. He laughs a little, and so does Annie, because it’s not really funny at all. 

Mags gives him a warm, if a little sad, smile. She doesn’t pull him into a hug or brush his hair from his eyes. She knows better than that. Mags glances at Finnick, then at Annie, then says, “I’m going home. You two walk together.”

He raises his eyebrows but says nothing. Mags can be confusing like that, sometimes. In his experience, it’s better to just go along with it. 

“Sorry about this,” Annie says, dark hair blowing slightly in the cool night wind. “She wanted me to get out of the house.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem,” Finnick replies as they begin their walk back to Victors’ Village. If he’s lucky, he might be able to catch the sunrise at the beach. “When Mags says something, it’s best to just do it. She’s kind of the authority around here.”

“I’ve noticed.”

They don’t talk about anything worthwhile. Annie doesn’t ask about his trip to the Capitol, either. He usually has one or two trips to make between the end of the Games and the Victory Tour. Everyone is still riled up from the Games or excited for the Tour, depending on which event is closer. Not that it matters much to Finnick; people in the Capitol are always riled up about something. 

There’s not much excitement this year, though. Annie’s victory was bland and dependent more on luck than on skill, and the Capitol doesn’t care much for that kind of victory. 

Lucky for her. 

“Where are you going?” Annie asks him a few minutes later.

“Home,” he answers distractedly. 

“I didn’t know you lived on the beach.”

Eyes widening, Finnick takes in his surroundings. The sound of the waves crashing on the shoreline or the smell of the salt in the air should’ve given it away, but it didn’t. Sure enough, though, he’s standing on the beach instead of his front porch. “Shit,” he mutters, glancing at Annie, who only looks faintly amused. “Sorry. Force of habit. You can go home, if you want.”

“Do you usually go to the beach after your Capitol trips?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Helps clear my head.” Vaguely, he remembers that according to the general population, he enjoys his time in the Capitol, and perhaps he should have said more to enforce that belief. But Annie is not part of the general population, she’s a victor. It’s likely that she dislikes the Capitol just as much as he does. If nothing else, she understands. 

Annie hums in acknowledgement. Her jaw is clenched slightly, knuckles white from gripping her skirt. Finnick knows this look well; it’s one that he has worn before, too. She’s nervous. 

Of course she is. The waves and the water most likely remind her of the flood in her arena, which was only months ago. He couldn’t even touch rope for months after his victory, not without a brutal reminder of the children he’d caught and speared like fish. 

“Really, Annie,” he says again. “You can go home. You don’t have to stay here.”

Her mouth twitches like she’s about to frown. “It’s okay. I’m waiting for the sunrise.”

“Well, that’s lucky,” he says, smiling. He would’ve reached for her hand if not for the fact that his hands had touched half the Capitol only a day before. “I just so happen to be waiting for the sunrise, too.”

Annie’s eye catches his and she smiles. 

Minutes later, the early morning sun paints streaks of pink and orange across the sky. 

* * *

Finnick doesn’t expect Annie to wait for him, but she does. He returns home to find her waiting at the train station, sometimes alone or with Mags. He never brings this habit to her attention. Somehow, bringing it up might ruin it for good, and he can’t bring himself to break the tenuous thread of hope that she will be waiting for him when he returns. 

Because it’s impossible to know what time of day his train will arrive in Four, and he has no way of contacting Annie ahead of time, he’s fairly certain that she sits on that wooden bench all day. And night, too. 

This time, it’s late at night when he returns. Annie is dozing lightly on the bench, head lolling to the side, but her eyes snap open when the train approaches. By the time he makes it to her, she’s standing up, alert. 

“You’re home,” she says. 

“I’m home,” he echoes, but it doesn’t feel true yet. 

On the bad days (most days), it takes some time before he feels home again. The feeling of the Capitol still clings to his skin, settles in his still styled hair, in the creases of his perfectly calculated smile. He wonders if Annie can tell, if she can see that he’s not home yet, not really. 

Of course she can. Annie can see everything, even the things most people can’t. 

They begin their walk to the beach under the dark sky. It has become something of a ritual for the two of them over the last few months. Finnick returns, Annie greets him at the station, and they go to the beach. The ocean water is the best at cleansing away the Capitol from his body, and Annie has gotten less and less panicked every time they go.

“The beach looks different at night,” Annie muses quietly as the waves gently lap at their ankles, then their knees. 

Finnick shrugs. “Everything looks different at night.”

He wades further into the water, Annie following behind. It’s colder without the sun to warm it, but it’s almost better that way. The biting chill is good at bringing him back to reality and easing the weariness that settles on his shoulders as soon as the cameras turn off. Beside him, Annie runs her fingers through the water, lifting her hand up so the water filters through her fingers. 

“Why do you do it?” he asks, observing her. Her eyes flit towards his. 

“Do what?”

“Wait for me.”

“Everybody deserves to have somebody that waits for them,” she replies simply. 

_Not me,_ he wants to say. _Not after the things I’ve done._ Instead, he asks, “You really believe that?”

Annie shrugs. “Sure.”

“Even the Gamemakers?” The mention of the Games doesn’t cause her eyes to glaze over like it used to. She’s improving, little by little. 

“Well, I didn’t say somebody _good_.”

Finnick laughs, loud and carefree and unabashed. Annie even smiles a little, too. Out here, in the ocean, he doesn’t have to pretend. Not with Annie. 

“Finnick?” she asks moments later. “Can I hold your hand?”

His instinct is to say yes, to oblige. That’s his job, after all, and he’s very good at it. But most people in the Capitol don’t ask, they just take. Annie asked. And he knows that she wouldn’t touch him without his explicit permission first. The concept is foreign but it’s one that exists in their relationship; no unprovoked touches. 

Annie is still looking at him, waiting for an answer. “Yes,” he decides. 

She gently takes his hand and he tries to ignore the urge to crawl out of his skin. A bead of sweat gathers on his forehead and he grimaces slightly. But Annie’s hand-holding is just that: holding hands. Nothing more. Her hands don’t wander, and she doesn’t ask for more. Just stands in the water with her hand in his. 

Eventually, Finnick’s erratic heartbeat settles and he exhales slightly in relief. As it turns out, he might be close to okay. 

* * *

Annie’s Victory Tour is excruciating for everyone involved. For Finnick, Annie has become something that consistently reminds him of home. Seeing her in the Capitol, the place where he feels the least at home, is jarring and borderline painful. 

Nobody is happy about the arrangement, not even the Capitol themselves. To them, Annie is weak minded and fragile, unable to endure the Games. 

(Annie is anything but fragile, but the Capitol doesn’t deserve to know that.)

It’s a major relief when the train finally pulls into the District Four station. This time, Annie is not waiting for him, because they leave the train together. 

“I hope I never have to go there again,” she declares as they walk back to the Village. (Both of them are in Capitol clothes and neither of them want to taint the beach with any reminder of the Capitol; they silently agreed to go home and change first.)

“I know,” Finnick says as they walk the sandy path. “I hope so, too.”

“I hope none of us have to go there again.”

He’s silent, this time. Annie is probably set for life in terms of Capitol trips, but he’ll be lucky if they lose interest before he turns fifty. 

He swings open the wooden door to his house, the creak of the hinges disruptive in the otherwise quiet village. Annie has made more of a home at his house in the last few months; he knows for a fact that she has some of her own clothes in the dresser of the guest room. 

“Let’s get changed,” he says as they walk in. “Meet back down here in a few minutes?”

Annie looks at him, a ghost of a smile flickering across her face. “See you then.”

As quickly as he can, Finnick pulls on a simple green T-shirt and a pair of rolled up jeans. Annie is already waiting for him when he returns, the skirt of her blue sundress rustling against her knees. Neither of them are wearing shoes; the boardwalk is the only surface that might be uncomfortable to walk on, if they weren’t District Four children and hadn’t walked the boardwalk barefoot dozens of times before. 

The ocean is a familiar sight, one that he sees every day, but that isn’t quite what makes it feel so comfortable. The real security comes from the girl walking next to him, face breaking out in a smile as they get closer and closer to the water. The breeze makes Annie’s hair blow in her face, but she doesn’t push it out of the way. 

“It’s nice out today,” she comments. 

Finnick nods, because it is. Warm and breezy and beautiful. The Capitol is always gray, but the sky in Four is clear and blue. He reaches for Annie’s hand, and she reaches back. His skin doesn’t crawl upon the contact; it hardly does anymore, with her. “Race you to the water?” 

He takes off running before she can respond. “Not fair!” she calls from behind him. “Your legs are longer than mine!”

“Not my fault,” he calls back as the water splashes up against his legs. Annie joins him seconds later, breathing heavily. 

“I’ll win next time,” she promises. 

“I believe you,” he answers with a smile. The midday sun sits high in the sky, beating down on his shoulders and warming the water below him. Annie’s hand finds his again, resting comfortably in it without thought.

“It’s good to be home,” she says softly, gazing out at the horizon. 

Finnick looks out at the expansive blue ocean, then back at Annie. “Yeah, it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Odesta one-shot of the year! I hope it's a good one. Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
